Compromised Loyalties
by TheOneThatGotAway99
Summary: When the Counsel sanctions a hit on one Anthony E. Stark, the Avengers don't just lie down and let it happen. Loyalties are questioned, old enemies resurface, and friendships are tested in ways they never dreamed. Through it all, one question remains: when it all comes down to it, where do your loyalties lie? [no slash; T for violence; Tony centric, team fic, but no Thor]
1. Clandestine Meeting

_Disclaimer: Nothing is mine to own save for the order in which the words flow out during the journey from mind to desktop keyboard. _

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**Chapter One: Clandestine Meeting**

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_6:43 am Tuesday, September 23  
__Empty warehouse temporarily off SHIELD radar, New York City, New York_

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Clint Barton silently made his way to the previously agreed upon location, north facing side of an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the industrial district. He recognized the area, even before he scouted out the location from a distance before moving in to location, never one to go in blind. The Avengers had taken out an AIM lab only about two blocks east of here last month. And a Hydra weapons shipment three blocks south three months before that. And an anonymous terrorist cell HQ a block west four months before that.

As evidenced above, this area was well known for its popularity with the city's far less than elite and outstanding.

Which meant this clandestine meeting couldn't mean anything good, at least in Clint's opinion. He swept his glance behind him and received the slightest of nods from his red-headed shadow to confirm that they were not being followed, and knew that she probably shared the same opinion.

Clint's arm brushed against the holster on his belt, but his fingers itched for his bow, still sitting safely in his room in Avengers Tower. He and Tony were still working on a less bulky version of his bow as well as thinking up new arrow designs, in between Tony's other projects, most of which consisted of better weapons and armor for the team, and Clint's missions for SHIELD, of which he had been steadily decreasing the amount of since becoming a full time Avenger just over a year ago.

But his handgun would have to do for now. Though, if things went well, he hopefully wouldn't have to use it. Things did so rarely go well for him, though.

Which is why he waited a full thirty seven seconds after the designated time of 0645, just in case, before turning the corner to the north facing side of the warehouse.

No bombs or bullets flew at him. So far, so good.

Glancing around once more, he approached the tall dark form wearing a long black leather trench coat, the only soul seen for miles in this empty area.

"Barton," said the form in a deep, level tone, not looking at the man. "I assume Romanoff is here as well."

"Director Fury," Clint greeted back. "You would assume correct. What is this about?"

Nick Fury, not one much for small talk, handed Clint a file folder marked 'Top Secret', and got straight to the point. "Seems your new pal Stark finally proved himself to be more nuisance than asset in the eyes of some high ranking individuals."

Clint flipped open the folder. The first page was Tony's personal information, from height and weight all the way down to net worth and social security number. A picture of Tony smirked up at him from its paperclipped position on the corner of the page. The second page was a list of known associates. Clint had seen it all before when had first become an Avenger, though now his and the other four members' names were on the list as well.

The next two pages were of Tony's movements in the last week all the way up to about 3 this morning, complete with pictures, which meant that Tony was under surveillance. The names of each of the Avengers, Pepper Potts, Col. Rhodes, whom Clint had met a few times and knew to be Tony's best friend outside of the Avengers, and a few other names popped up in the report. Turning the page, he found five pages of Tony's recent financial activity, but none of it answered his biggest question. "How's that, Sir?"

"I've not been privy to all the details," Fury responded, sounding more than bitter about that fact. He continued. "The Council is sanctioning a hit on Stark."

That made the unflappable, specially trained secret agent pause a moment. He knew that Stark and the Council never really saw eye to eye, especially after the whole trying to nuke Manhattan fiasco during the Chitari invasion, but Tony had always managed to stay well within the parameters of 'asset', a.k.a. too important to lose no matter how annoying he is, even before the Avengers. What could have happened to suddenly move him to the top of the Council's shit list?

"The decision was made late last night. They asked for my best to take this. I told them my best wouldn't do it, but they disagree. They're going to be requesting your presence at 1400 hours today."

Ah, so not only was a member of the Avengers being targeted, but another member of the Avengers was the intended assassin as well. A poetically ironic fate for their Avengers Initiative.

"Why now?"

"Who knows. But they've obviously weighed the pros and cons and, apparently, Stark lost. They want him taken out of play by the end of the week, specifically before Wednesday of next week. They have something big planned and want him out of the way to keep him from interfering somehow. They also plan on seizing all patents, blueprints, and prototypes of the Iron Man, repulsor, and arc reactor technologies they can find to make up their losses."

Fury was being blunt and to the point, laying down all the facts and giving Clint all the info he needed to know. But there were gaps, too much missing information and explanations, and Clint couldn't tell if Fury was withholding intelligence from him, or if the man was just as in the dark as to the inner workings of this decision as he was. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Tony Stark and the Avengers are the only people I know to actively defy the Council on an every other day basis simply by doing what you do." Fury looked straight at Clint, eyes unreadable. "I still want the Avengers around, and that won't happen if Stark is out of the picture." His single eye went back to studying the growing shadows of the warehouse in the gathering early morning light. "For some reason beyond my comprehension, you Avengers have grown close to Stark in the year you all have been together," he said with the slightest of smirks.

Clint remained silent, drinking in all that he had been told.

Fury's smirk turned into a frown as he continued. "I hope you understand that my hands are tied. My protests have been overruled and I've been given direct orders to stay away from this. This is out of my hands."

Clint was silent for another moment, calculating and weighing his options before responding, "Only if you understand what it is I have to do, sir."

"Out of my hands," Fury repeated, and, business concluded, he turned away and began walking back the way he had come. "And into yours. Good luck, Agent."

"Thank you, Director," Clint replied before the man disappeared from sight down a side street.

Well, he was right about clandestine meetings in crooked neighborhoods baring bad news.

Clint turned and made his own way back. He made it all of two warehouses away before his partner seemingly solidified from the shadows.

"Did you catch all that?" he asked unnecessarily, because she is the Black Widow, of course she heard it all. But he was still reeling slightly from the news and didn't quite know what to say. But he always trusted her judgment in difficult situations, so he asked, "What do we do?"

"We have to tell them," she answered, and he knew she meant the other Avengers. Anyone else looking at her would be fooled by her calm and cool, almost emotionless appearance, but knowing her as well as he did, he could clearly see the turmoil rolling in her eyes. She was just as close as he was to the other members of their team, and had only just managed to earn her way back into Tony's good graces a few months ago after the 'Natalie Rushman' betrayal.

He nodded once and pulled his Starkphone from his pockets, quickly dialing speed dial number two (number one was Natasha). Steve picked up his phone on the second ring.

"Cap? Round up the troops for a team meeting; something big's come up. Tasha and I will be there in ten."

Clint hung up and tucked his phone away, and with a single nod from Natasha, the two took their leave back to the tower that had become their home, despite the forces seeking to rip them from it. They dissolved into the shadows as the light of the rising sun just managed to peak over the warehouse rooftops onto the deserted pavement below, lighting the previously dark and dreary meeting place with brilliant orange tinged autumn light.

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_To be continued. . ._

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_Author's Note: So what do you think, dear readers? Worth continuing? Or perhaps this tiny taste is not enough to judge it on? My first go at writing for Avengers, and I do plan on finishing at least the second chapter before deciding if this story should indeed be continued, or left in the depressing bowels of both the FFdotnet archives as well as that of my desktop's memory to waste away and collect dust where no one will find it. . ._

_Anyways, please tell me what you think, if you feel so inclined. Thanks for reading! Love you guys! Take care and God bless!_

_-TheOneThatGotAway99_


	2. Intelligence and Information

**Intelligence and Information**

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_Disclaimer: See previous disclaimer, for the truths held within have not changed in the time between then and now._

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_7:01 am Tuesday, September 23  
Tony Stark's Laboratory #4, 59__th__floor, Avengers Tower, New York City, New York_

Bruce and Tony, Avengers Tower's resident geniuses, had spent the last thirty-two solid hours in the lab, after a surprisingly refreshing eight hours of uninterrupted sleep post-battle with what could only be described as half a dozen yellow and purple striped lobsters the size of caravans in the middle of Central Park.

The majority of those thirty-two straight hours were spent studying the strange glowing blue goo that the lobster creatures spat, which seemed to have the ability to hyper age any substance it touched. I.E. oxidized metal to rust in seconds, turned a slab of concrete to dust, and caused organic material to decay in two blinks of an eye – as they discovered when Tony got bored and decided to poke the stuff with a hot dog straight from the package, only to swear to never do it again when he smelled the outcome, a rotting blot of meat, the smell of which permeated the lab air for over three hours despite Tony's top of the line ventilation system – but they still didn't know the cause of it yet.

The rest of those thirty-two hours was spent bickering, bantering, and chatting about pretty much anything that came to mind, as were their usual. So when, nine minutes after Steve got the phone call from Clint – and three failed attempts at getting the scientists to the Avengers Meeting room two floors up only to decide that maybe they should just have the meeting in the lab, instead – and Steve, Clint, and Natasha walked in, no one was particularly surprised to find the two in the middle of a back and forth.

"I'm telling you, it's not bronchitis," Tony stated with a wave of the screwdriver he was using to tinker with a scanner of some sort. "It's just a cough."

"A persistent cough. And I'm just telling you that it _could_ be," Bruce countered, not glancing up from the readouts appearing on the holographic screen in front of him.

"Yeah, well, it's not. Just a cough. See?" He let out an obviously fake cough. "Cough. What I'm more interested in are those fiesta crustaceans that were hocking hyper-aging loogies at us two days ago."

"I don't think you are the most reliable source when it comes to determining your own health, Tony," Bruce said lightly, ignoring Tony's attempts at distraction. "Remember what happened in Greenland? You were walking around barefoot in the snow for nearly an hour before SHIELD finally picked us up, then you had a cold for over a week because of it, which could have been avoided entirely had you just _told_ one of us what had happened."

"Now, hey, that wasn't my fault. I had no idea that the nanobots were specifically set to my armor's titanium alloy density. It was pure genius on my part that managed to concentrate them on the boots only and keep the rest of the suit intact." Tony's head snapped up as Steve cleared his throat to alert them to their presence. "Big bird," Tony called, eyes on Clint and an easy smile on his face. "Just thought of an idea for a new quiver. Nanobot sustained automatic reload. You'd never run out of arrows again. The nanobots would just keep making more as fast as you use them." Clint began to approach as he turned his eyes to the screen he just opened to take notes. "And if that works, I could potentially condense the nanobots into a more manageable material, possibly into a lightweight, reforming body armor for Itsy Bitsy since she refuses the vibranium reinforced Kevlar plating I put in Spangles' and yours' uniforms. Which is understandable, I guess, since it adds an extra five pounds and isn't as flexible as hers, but considering how heavy that scalemail vest that SHIELD gave Capsicle was, five pounds is a dream, no offense to Coulson's designs. Even I have to agree that sometimes classic fits. After that, I could tinker around with—"

"Tony," Clint interrupted, gently placing his hand on the engineer's shoulder. "That'll have to wait. There's something we all need to talk about."

"What's wrong?" asked Bruce, finally taking in the unusually solemn expression on the normally sarcastic spy's face. Steve's face was a combination of confusion and a hint of concern, which told Bruce the Captain did not yet know what this was about, and Natasha's was unreadable, as per her usual when waiting for something or deep in thought.

At the question, Tony glanced up at Bruce, seeing his concern, before shooting over to Clint and finally noticed his friend's grave mood.

Without answering or looking away from Tony, Clint asked, "JARVIS, is this room secure?"

"_Indeed, Agent Barton,_" replied the cool accented voice easily. "_I detect no listening or viewing devices, active or otherwise, within the vicinity of this room that are not already under my full control._"

"Good, keep it that way."

"_Of course._"

Tony was frowning questioningly at Clint, waiting – rather patiently, in his opinion – for the archer to finish addressing the A.I. and explain.

By this time, Steve had moved to stand beside Bruce to better see the situation, while Natasha took a position at Clint's side, facing the door as though to protect them from an unknown threat. Or maybe a known threat, Bruce couldn't tell.

Clint glanced around at his teammates, eyes lingering on Tasha until she gave him the slightest of nods and he looked back at Tony, taking a calming breath. He didn't bother beating around the bush. "The World Security Council has sanctioned your assassination, Tony."

A tense silence, a shocked hush, settled over the room, like the calm before a torrent, until –

"What?!" Steve demanded at the same time that Bruce shouted, "_No!_"

Steve took a step forward. "How is this possible? Why would they do that? _How_ _could_ they do that?"

"I knew SHIELD couldn't be trusted," Bruce ranted under his breath, presumably to himself. "I should never have trusted them. . ."

Natasha remained a statue, transfixed in her attempts to protect the group from outside threats, unconsciously trying to make up for not protecting them from the greatest of inside threats.

Meanwhile, Tony stayed silent through Steve's rapid-fire questions – he being the one with the most respect of authority from having been trained, first and foremost, as a soldier – and Bruce's conspiratorial tirade – understandable, given his past experiences with government agencies of all types – his eyes locked on Clint, who could clearly see the barely visible concern wrinkling the industrialist's brow and turning down the corners of his lips.

For a moment he thought that concern was directed inward, concerned about himself like any normal person would when told someone was trying to kill them. But then Tony proved not only that he was a genius who easily understood entire situations before most have even recognized the first steps, and because he was so distinctly _not normal_, but also that everything everyone writes about the "infamous" Tony Stark in those trash newspapers and magazines about him being entirely self-centered is, was, and forever will be wrong, when Tony asked , voice low and serious, emotion hiding just beneath the surface, "They want you to do it, don't they?"

Clint let out a small sigh, looking away. "Yeah."

"_Bastards_," Tony huffed in quiet anger. Glancing up, they locked gazes once more, and Clint was stunned by the startling combination of sorrow and kind understanding shown in his friend's dark eyes (Clint would never call it compassion, not on Tony Stark. Not mixed with that much trust and anger for another. 'Compassion' wasn't a big enough word for it.). "What are we going to do?" the billionaire asked the archer, as though it was completely Clint's decision. As though he wasn't talking about his own life and the possibility of his eminent death. As though –

_Oh._

As though there was never any question of if Clint would actually do it. Because there wasn't. From the moment Fury told him he was to be the one the WSC would request, he had been fervently denying it. Refusing outright.

In his lifetime, he had taken many assignments, many without complaint, in which his primary, or only, objective was to end someone's life. Accepted and accomplished. But even the thought of looking down a scope or an arrow shaft at Tony, when it wasn't in defense to watch and protect Iron Man's back in a fight, nearly made him shudder at the pure _wrongness_ of it.

So no, there was no question. He would never do it. Not without a pretty danged good reason, and even then he wouldn't obey blindly. And he certainly hadn't been presented with one, as of yet.

But before Clint could answer Tony's question, Bruce, ever the more observant than people usually assumed from him, and still pretty quick at grasping things given a bit of time, asked one of his own. "You don't seem very surprised, Tony. Do you know why the Council wants you dead?"

Suddenly, all eyes were on Tony, waiting for an answer.

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_To be continued. . ._

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_Author's Notes: How bad is it? Is it horrible? I feel like I am ruining the characters. Being slightly OOC is understandable when facing something they have never faced before, but I don't want to change them all completely. Any tips or suggestions to help keep them all in character? And yes, the cliffhanger is a bit weak, but I figured you all waited long enough. Hope it was enjoyable, to at least some degree. _

_Also, I discovered halfway through that I had been using 'Counsel' instead of 'Council'. Oh dear. I went back and fixed it in the first chapter, as well. Love ya all! Take care! God bless!_

_-TheOneThatGotAway99_


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